


Garden of Gardenia's

by Silverxts



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Jealous GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Loneliness, M/M, Mild Language, Side SkepHalo, Skephalo, Throwing up blood, Unrequited Love, alternative universe, dream has hanahaki disease, karlnap, quackity is not in this fic i just used the name alex lmao, side karlnap, so much blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-25 09:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30087099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverxts/pseuds/Silverxts
Summary: Dream always thought that George's smiles were like honey-syrup. Was it even a surprise he fell for the pretty boy?
Relationships: BadBoyHalo/Skeppy, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Skeppy/Badboyhalo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Garden of Gardenia's

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Cherry Tree](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10293617) by [Sharleena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharleena/pseuds/Sharleena). 



> TW // BLOOD AND MENTION OF THROWING UP BLOOD
> 
> ALSO!! PSA!! I used the name Alex in here it is IN NO WAY REFERRING TO QUACKITY. Quackity is NOT in this fic.
> 
> Hanahaki Disease: Hanahaki disease is a fictional sickness that only occurs when someone is suffering from unrequited love. The victim will cough up flower petals that symbolize their love. This disease is only cured when the victim's feelings are romantically returned. The only other way that the disease is cured is surgical. However, to comes with a downside. 
> 
> please don't read if this bothers you :) thank you and enjoy! this is my first SERIOUS fic LOL but it was an idea I needed to get out.

The smell was god awful, it was nauseating. The bitter, metallic taste of blood stuck in the back of his throat like glue. The dizzying smell of blood mixed with the sweet smell of Gardenia’s that are stained and painted in red in the toilet bowl hits Dream’s stomach like a truck, ending up with him retching over the toilet once more. And God it hurts like hell. It hurts like fucking hell and he couldn’t fucking _breathe._ The petals at the back of his throat screaming to get out. Dream peers at the toilet bowl as a long drool of spit and blood trail down his mouth. There was enough blood for it to be a problem now.

“Sap isn’t going to be happy,” he mutters through the pain and coughs painfully, a hellish fire raging in his throat as he heaves once again, the flowers going down the toilet bowl.

Fuck he could even feel it _growing_ for fuck’s sake.The roots taking a hold of his lungs, caressing his life force away, his chest throbs like he was stabbed. He thinks enough is enough and calls.

One ring.

Two rings.

“Hey Dream, what’s up?” A smooth voice came out the other end along with a small chuckle, certainly the younger was busy with his friends and suddenly, Dream had an overwhelming shame come over him. Why did this have to happen?

“Help,” his voice came out hoarse and rough. “Can’t,” a god awful breath in, “breathe.”

“Woah, woah, okay, talk to me buddy, what’s going on?” Concern laced Sapnap’s voice, a faint ‘ _goodbye_ ’ could be heard from the other end. “Is it a panic attack?”

“Flat. Come over please,” he pleads hoarsely. And he’s fucking terrified, he’s scared and everything just fucking hurts. His chest aches with a broken heart and pain. And all of a sudden, he thinks of a shy, bright smile, sweet like honey syrup flashing in his mind, those brown orbs crinkled with joy looking right at him. And he bends over on the toilet again, throwing up those white flower petals painted in blood red. 

At some point Sapnap must have gotten the point and hung up since he wasn’t answering to his words anymore, probably in a beeline to his apartment. Dream bends over the toilet bowl, heaving, wondering if it’ll ever get better, if it’ll ever go away and stop. He knows the answer before the thought finishes: no. 

How could he not have fallen in love with him?

The thought makes him gag, a convulsion like no other and blood stained flowers along with saliva and blood fall into the toilet bowl. _Goddammit_. 

He’s not sure how many minutes (it felt like fucking hours) pass but he finally hears a panicked door knock with a couple shouts of his name. ‘Use the fucking key, you idiot,’ he thinks to himself as he hurls again. His body in pain and aching from all the heaving he’s done, there was no way he was going to drag his limp and sore body to the door and back, the flowers and blood reflecting probably what was the worst one yet. Fucking Gardenia’s. Eventually he hears the keys unlocking the door. _Finally._ And rushed footsteps come into the apartment.

“Dream! Where the-“ his friend’s eyes widen at the mess he’s introduced with. Dream hunching over the toilet bowl, saliva, blood, and Gardenia petals just splattered and painted across the toilet bowl. The smell was foul. Sapnap flinched at it, it was truly nauseating. He looks at his best friend and kneels down to get a good look at his face. “Shit Dream, has this happened before?” Dream’s face was a fucking mess. Saliva and blood coated his lips and chin heavily, splatters of red dotted across his cheeks and his eyes teary, faint streaks of tears was crawling down his face. But the worst was how his face was twisted with pain. “I’m here, I’m here.” He rubs his hand on Dream’s back as the blonde lurches on the toilet bowl again. Sapnap flinches again. 

It’s really not a pretty sight. 

“I can’t-” Dream wheezes, “breathe.”

“I know, I’m sorry, fuck I’m so sorry, it gets better okay?" Sapnap rubs his hand on Dream’s back. “Let me go grab you some water.” At that Dream’s eyes widen and turns harshly. 

He doesn’t know how he must’ve looked like to Sapnap then but it must’ve been absolutely terrifying. A crazed like wide look in his eyes, with blood and saliva all over his face, and a Gardenia petal stuck on his chin. 

“Stay, please." He begs as tears run down his cheeks. With a forceful sob, Dream snaps his head towards the toilet bowl and starts retching all over again. 

Sapnap painfully looks at his poor friend heaving over the toilet. “You need water, Dream, I’ll be right back. I promise,” he says softly and rushes to the kitchen. 

Dream coughs painfully and finally, fucking _finally_ takes a breath of fresh air and treasures it like it was his last. He breathes out slowly, calming his thoughts and his tears. Sapnap comes back with a glass of water. He gently lifts Dream out of his crouching position to lean him against the wall, sitting facing him. He grabs a tissue and wipes away the majority of the blood from his chin. 

“Drink,” he orders.

Dream takes the glass and slowly gulps it down, finally having a bit of peace. He breathes in and coughs a little. a white petal falling out his mouth onto his arm. “My throat fuckin’ hurts man.”

Sapnap looks at him sadly. “I know,” he bites his lip, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s going to be okay, Karl and I will help you through it. Is this the first time? Or have you had more?” Concern painted over his face.

“First,” he says, though he’s pretty sure Sapnap could tell he just flat out lied.

They sit in silence and Dream picks at the flower petal that fell out of his mouth a couple moments ago. It’s slightly stained with blood but it wasn’t to the point where you would think it was a red petal. He fiddles with it sadly. 

Sapnap hesitates. “Who is it Dream?” He knows who it is, he knows the name that’s on the tip of Dream’s tongue. The man who smiled like honey and had eyes like the universe. The petal he fiddled with screams.

“George, it’s George,” Dream whispers, tears on his cheeks.

Sapnap smiles sadly. 

~✿❀~

They became friends.

Dream was quietly drinking his coffee behind the counter as he read his book. The book-cafe was peaceful, a blanket of tranquility settling over the customers. The smell of coffee burned his lungs, and stung his nose. He loved it here. Every so often het got up to make coffee or check out a book but it was a nice job. Minimal talking, nothing too hard working, and he worked alongside his friend Karl, who was his best friend’s boyfriend. 

The door opened as Dream was taking another sip of his latte (Karl had stared in shock at Dream, he totally pegged him to be a black coffee kind of guy), and looked towards the door over the counter. Hushed excited noises coming from the front of the store, and Dream huffed in annoyance. This was supposed to be a place for quiet and peace, Goddamit. A whisper of his name made him turn around. 

Two big grins of his friends and some unknown pale skinned, short guy stood in front of him. He sighs in feign annoyance, suppressing a smile. It was contagious with these two around. “What do you want, Bad, Skeppy?”

Skeppy bounced on the rolls of his feet excited. “How are you doing Dream? How’s the job? We haven’t seen each other in a while, man. We should catchup.” 

Dream hums with a smile as he brings the cup to his lips. “Is there a way I can say no,” he jokes.

Bad gasps. “Dream that’s rude, he was being nice,” a slight smile wavers on his lips. 

Dream puts his hand up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I surrender, we’ll catch up.” He takes notice of the short, pale boy with black hair, bouncing and swaying awkwardly on his feet while he watches the conversation in front of him unfold. The blonde points with his eyes. “Who’s the kid?”

Bad rolls his eyes. “He’s not a kid, he’s actually,” a smug smile, “older than you, and a transfer from England! Isn’t that cool?” Dream hums in response, almost not caring, but the shyness in the Brit’s eye’s was cute. “George, come in front. Dream this is George! George, this is Dream, a muffinhead.” 

“Hey!”

“Now you two be friends and hang out with each other,” Skeppy smirks, “it’s the end of your shift isn’t it?” Dream frowns. 

Fuck. Now he had to hang out with some transfer student? 

“Bad and I have a very important date to go on so, bye!” Skeppy drags Bad by his wrists as the other boy leaves with a string of complaints behind him.

Dream sighs and looks at the poor transfer student, watching him awkwardly looking around the bookshop in awe. He might as well indulge in their request. “You want a drink? Before I get off shift?” He murmurs, loud enough for the boy, George, to hear. He bites his lips and nods. Dream follows the movement. 

Soft, pink lips.

Dream turns around and gets to work on the coffee machine, the aroma of coffee beans wavering in his face. He makes the transfer student a matcha latte, he seemed like the kind of guy who liked that stuff anyway. Dream finishes pouring the mixed drink into a takeaway cup and handed the drink over to George. When he made a move for his wallet Dream put his hand up. 

“On the house for today, since you just came in and you’re friends with Bad and Skeppy,” he was getting off work anyway, he’d deal with it another day. “If you want, we could stay and chat around here? Though we’d have to be quiet, I hate it when it gets loud when I’m working,” he grumbles.

George nods as he heads to an empty, two-seater table and sips at his drink. When they sit down the boy finally speaks, “This is really good, you make good coffee.”

The blonde smirks, if there was one thing he knew how to do was making good coffee. They both quietly drink coffee at first, neither of them really trying to converse and Dream grows frustrated with the silence. He could be at home doing… whatever he wanted to do. He sighs and makes the first move. “So why did you transfer? It’s a pretty big change from the UK to Florida.”

George shrugs, “Nothing really, it was sort of on a whim.” 

“Pretty big ‘whim’ I would say,” Dream says with a raised eyebrow, and George responds with a slight smile and a shrug. 

“Sorry I got us in this position, I may have jokingly said to Bad that he was ditching my plans today to hang out with Skeppy and he felt bad, told me he had someone he wanted to introduce me to,” his eyebrows furrow, “Skeppy seemed more than happy to do that, had an almost evil look on his face. Anyway, and you know, you can’t really—“

“Say no to Bad,” Dream grins, “yeah, he’s just too nice for his own good, isn’t he?”

And for the first time he’s shown his face to Dream, the Brit smiles, genuinely, and maybe Dream’s breath stops a bit, because wow. It reminded him of honey, honey-syrup; sweet and bright. Dream has to bite his lips to stop his thinking. 

All of a sudden a weight on his shoulder appears and arms wrap around his neck, a giggle echoes in his ears. Across the table, George smiles shyly at Karl, who had slung himself over Dream’s shoulder. 

“Wow Dream, taking my boyfriend?” A joking voice behind him asks quietly. Karl giggles again, a little more quiet this time and slithers back to his boyfriend who’s grinning like a damn cheshire cat at Dream and George. Dream nods over at his best friend.

“Hey, you accompanying Karl for his shift?” With a pointed gaze he turns to Karl, “You're late dude.” 

“Hey don’t go at him we were busy,” Sapnap says with a smirk and Karl lightly hits him on his shoulder. 

“Hey George! Good to see you outside of class,” Karl smiles gleefully (seriously when is this guy never _not_ happy?) and Sapnap nods in his direction. 

Dream lifts an eyebrow and turns back to George. “You know these two?”

He nods in response, “Karl is in one of my classes and he introduced me to his boyfriend pretty quickly so… yeah.”

God damn it Skeppy.

With a chuckle, Dream leans back in his chair, his head tilted up to the ceiling, “I think Skeppy tried to hook us up British boy.”

George flushes in embarrassment, “What the hell Skeppy.”

Karl’s name was called at the counter and he dragged his boyfriend behind him as he left, Sapnap winking at Dream not so subtly. 

“Does this mean you live in the apartments near the college?” Dream asks.

George nods, “Do you?”

“Yeah,” George tilts his head in confusion. “What?”

“It’s just that I have never seen you, though I do leave pretty early,” George ponders.

The blonde clicks his tongue, “That’s why, I hate morning classes, they fucking suck ass. I don’t know how you do it. I’m more of a night person.”

George grins, “Well it’s a good thing they didn’t set us up for a blind date, right? We’re so incompatible we might as well have gouged each other’s eyes out.”

“The world would’ve collapsed.”

“Everyone would be suffering and trying to survive.”

“Burn the Earth”

They became friends.

~✿❀~

It gets better for Dream, as much as throwing up blood and flowers goes. Dream will wake up every other day or so after dreaming of soft black hair and deep sea black eyes. Hands all over each other as he watches George sleep, curled up into him like a koala. Sometimes he’ll feel the soft press of lips against his. The next second he’s jolting out of bed, blood and Gardenia’s arising from his throat, the roots in his lungs growing ever so slightly and he can’t breathe again. His chest begins to ache and he hurls over the toilet, watching the blood and petals scatter with longing heartache. 

After coughing up all the flowers and petals he could from his throat and lungs, the blonde heads to the balcony. He knows he shouldn’t, and he really didn’t want to go through it again right after he finished but he does. Because he remembers, the time that George came over and they sat on the balcony all night, watching the stars and moon, talking about whatever and anything. They talked until George couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, and Dream would watch, from the other beanbag, how the Brit would curl into himself, his hair messy, shivering in the cold Florida night. And ultimately, Dream would go get a blanket that he tried to fetch earlier when the older had stubbornly told him ‘I won’t get cold’ and sat on the beanbag dragging a dazed Dream.

Dream looks at the beanbags and coughs. A couple white petals falls from his lips and gently swirls in the tender wind of the afternoon. It’s a sunny day today, he notes, taking in the sun for once since the past week or so.

He hears the door knock and a doorbell ring, heading over to open it, to his surprise (or maybe not), he finds Sapnap and Karl standing in front of his door with concerned faces. Karl having two cups of coffee in his hands and Sapnap’s hands in his hoodie jacket. ‘This couldn’t be good’ Dream thinks. He wordlessly tells them to come in. 

“I’ve brought you a latte, Dream,” Karl says sympathetically, Sapnap definitely told him about the situation. He just hoped it wouldn’t get to George. The last thing he needed was for the elder to worry about him when he had so much on his plate.

“Thanks,” the blonde mutters and takes a sip, running hot liquid down his worn out, raw throat. He hasn’t been to work since that day he called Sapnap, the boy shaking with unspoken rage and care for him to call his work to call in sick for the next few days. He hasn’t even been to classes.

Dream wonders if George has noticed his sudden mild disappearance. 

He coughs again, a couple more petals stained with blood fall to the floor. Sapnap sighs, Dream couldn’t tell if it was with sadness or just frustration. He can figure out why they came, other than concern, he knew why his best friend was sitting in the living room with him, trying to figure out how to start the conversation. On the other hand, Karl looked a little uncomfortable. He knew where this conversation was going to lead to too.

“Dream—”

“You want me to get the surgery,” he cuts straight to the point, a pointed gaze straight into Sapnap’s eyes. The brunette shuffles in his seat, breaking eye contact.

“It’s best for you,” he whispers.

“No.”

“Dream but—”

“I said no, Sapnap. I’m not getting the surgery, never.”

“Then just ignore him!” Sapnap growls angrily, clearly frustrated with Dream. “You look like you are fucking dying, Dream, and you _will_ if you don’t do something about it _soon_ and I mean really soon,” Sapnap pauses, “The way you’re progressing… it’s growing too fast Dream. You’re just going to be suffering—”

“I’m fine, I can deal with it Sapnap. And there’s no way I’m ignoring George, he’ll know something’s wrong, he’ll think it’s his fault, when it’s not,” a pause, a cough. “It’s mine.”

“You’re right, it’s your fucking fault. Look out for yourself, please! I don’t want to lose my fucking best friend!” Sapnap sounds desperate, and Dream felt guilty, he knew the Sapnap cared about just as much as he did for him. But this was the one thing he couldn’t do. He couldn’t let go, not of this.

“I can’t do the surgery, I can’t forget him-”

“You won’t forget him,” Sapnap snaps and Dream glares.

“Correction: I can’t forget how it feels to love him, Sapnap. I can’t do this.”

“How about you care about yourself first?” And Dream’s has had enough.

“How would you feel if you just, forgot how it feels to love Karl?!” Dream almost shouts, his ragged breathes echo in the room. Karl looks at his feet with a blank expression, quiet, clearly uncomfortable. Then softly, Dream says, “Isn’t that feeling good,” a tear rolls down his cheeks, “I can’t forget that feeling, it’s the best and the scariest thing to happen.”

“But—” 

“Sappy, leave it alone, give him time,” this time it was Karl that interrupted Sapnap, softly calling out to him with a squeeze on his shoulder. Sapnap looks at Dream with a broken expression.

“I just don’t want to lose you, man.”

Dream knows. He knows how much the other cares. He stands up and heads to Sapnap, giving him a hug.

“I know.”

~✿❀~

His name was Alex. 

Dream remembered the first time George had talked about him. Bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement, the handful of white flowers in his grip, grin wide and eyes crinkled with excruciating joy, the Brit had excitedly told Dream all about him: how handsome he was, how smart, how caring, how observant he was. And Dream just nodded with a smile on his face. He was happy for George. He really was. If this Alex guy made George this happy everyday, where he could make George smile like honey-syrup, it was fine. He was happy for his friend. They were just really good friends.

Of course not everything goes as smoothly for everyone.

When Dream had decided to go out for a late night snack run at the 24 hour convenience store next to the complex, he wasn’t really prepared to handle it. Eyes that were beginning to shut themselves from exhaustion suddenly awoken with panic. 

It was on the first floor. A couple just outside the entrance to the complex were screaming at each other at a level they shouldn’t be at this time at night, yelling profanities and accusations at each other. Dream gulped nervously and peeked over at the couple through the glass.

“You’re fucking cheating on me Alex!” A voice sobbed, in a way that sounded like they just wanted to desperately wanted to be loved.

Dream froze.

No, it couldn’t be.

“Really? You’re accusing _me_ of cheating when you hang around that blonde motherfucker who clearly has eyes for you and you, you! You accuse me of cheating for having drinks with a _girl_?” He watched Alex shoved George a little, eyes suddenly glaring at the man, flaring with distinct anger. 

“Don’t fucking _shove me_ you cheating mother fucker!” George angrily slapped his hand away and Alex just scoffed. Dream’s fists curled into itself, he felt his nails digging into his skin as he watched, his legs stopped moving.

“I’m fucking done with you, goodnight George.” 

George’s voice panicked, “No— no, no, no that’s not what I meant I promise! Please don’t leave.” He could hear George’s quick steps as he followed Alex and Dream finally stepped closer to the entrance, careful that he wasn’t seen. This wasn’t his fight, he realized numbly, unless it got physical he couldn’t do anything, he might make it worse.

“You are literally so jealous of every single thing I can’t even be around one person. I bet you’re the one cheating on me you whore— get off me!” Alex suddenly shouted, louder than the volume they were already fighting at and Dream froze. Gritting his teeth and moved into sight, but Alex had stomped off somewhere and George…

He heard the Brit sniffle and cry as he finally makes himself known to his friend. Dream bites his lip and stands next to him, looking down at George who had his head between his knees. “Hey…”

George looks up with red stains in his eyes, tears trickling down his cheeks and his lips shiny, and the boy, the angel that he is, fucking _smiles_ at Dream. “Where you going, Dream?”

“Late night snack run… you okay?” He knows George isn’t.

George laughs wetly, “You heard all that, huh?”

Dream kneels down, leaning his back against the wall like George and sighs, almost painfully, “He’s a fucking asshole Georgie,” he turns to face George and doesn’t break eye contact. Dream was fucking pissed. George deserved better. Better than diamonds and Alex was just a pile of dirt. 

George sniffles and shakes his head, “No, no, he’s right, I get jealous about everything. He was just having a drink with his friend. I was overreacting.”

“George, was he cheating on you?” Dream whispers. 

“He loves me. I know it, he does, he really loves me. It’s just a small fight,” he responds in a small voice. “All couples get into small fights.” He turns to smile at Dream, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Dream just stares at him and sighs agonizingly.

“Yeah, I’m sure he does.”

His name was Alex.

~✿❀~

They would always met up every other day at the book cafe. Both George and Dream would sit with coffee in their hands and silently reading their newest pick, occasionally reading aloud paragraphs that they liked. The pungent scent of coffee lingering in the air, fabricating a warmth only the two of them felt within each other’s reach. 

So Dream was a little worried after a week of not seeing the Brit that he would come pounding on his front door, and Dream couldn’t let George see him like this, at least not with flowers coughing up his throat. Though, if he did manage to come around, Dream would feel relieved to see the older boy again, to make sure he was doing well and taking care of himself. 

But if George did come, how in the fuck was he going to hide the petals? Dream groans into his pillow. Every time he even thought about the boy in a close setting he could _feel_ the roots wrapping around his lungs and the petals rising in his throat. 

He was just going to hope that Sapnap and Karl was able to keep him out for a little longer. With that thought, Dream’s heart ached a little. He missed seeing George. He missed seeing the honey-syrup smile. He missed looking into his eyes and getting lost in them-

The roots tightened and Dream heaves, retching petals and blood on his floor. Dream sighs in defeat with his hands running through his blonde locks. The hell was he going to—

And, at the worst possible time, the door bell rang. 

Dream freezes, the doorbell ringing over and over again and he swallows the remaining petals down his throat and gags. He quickly searches his room for _something_ , just to cover his mouth and could only pray to Gods that it was just Sapnap being annoying. Dream finds a scarf and covers his mouth by wrapping it around his neck. 

And he convulses again. Because, of course, not only did he just find the scarf, it was no other than George’s scarf that he lent Dream. And it reeked like him, yet Dream wanted to shove the fabric into his nose and inhale the Brit’s scent. 

The doorbell keeps ringing and Dream, with an annoyed huff yells as best he can with his hoarse throat: “I’m coming! Jeez!” He rushes to the door and peers at the eye hole. 

Speak of the fucking devil.

A deep breath in and Dream opens the door, a smile suddenly making his way to his face when George looks at him with a twinge of feign annoyance laced in his brows.

“Why are you so slow, my God, after I came all the way here to help you through your cold,” he tusks at the blonde and makes his way inside before Dream could even say a word, a cold, so that’s what Sapnap had told George. He watches him walk into the house, his oversized sweater and jeans reminding him of a feeling like home… Yeah, he missed him all right, a lot more than he would like to admit. 

“You live in the same building, dumbass,” Dream hums affectionately as they both make their way to the living room and George looks at him pointedly. 

“After I came all this way,” he repeats sternly, sass in his tone as he sits on the couch. Dream sits as far away as possible from him. “Why so far?” George asks with a raised brow, and then a small smirk on his face, “Am I just too sexy for you now?”

Dream fiddles with his fingers and brings the scarf up to his nose, “The cold and stuff y’know, won’t want you catching it,” he mumbles nervously, he couldn’t even get his act together, Dream felt like he was being torn apart and then slowly being put together with the mere presence of George.

That terrified him, yet he loved it.

George catches his eyes and holds eye contact with a knowing gaze, he hums, “Sure, Dreamie, just say you love me and get on with it.”

At those words Dream coughs, the pain in his throat screaming in agony. “Y-yeah, sure, you wish.”

George luckily hadn’t really thought much of his cough, assuming it was because of the cold. “Well, because I’m an _amazing_ friend who you love and care for, I brought you things that could help.” Dream finally realizes that George had been carrying a bag with him this entire time. He pulls out medication, bottles of water, and a container of…food? “It’s soup! I made it,” George grins proudly, and perhaps Dream falls just a little more, the ground beneath him out of reach as the wind rushes by his ear. 

He was so god damn cute, of course he would fall in love with him. The thought brings another harsh cough and Dream can feel the petals in his mouth. 

“Let me go to the bathroom and, clean up…?” Dream asks unsurely, he’s petrified of George finding out. He couldn’t let him see the flowers. George nods distractedly at Dream while he heads to the kitchen to prepare the soup for his friend. Dream rushes to the bathroom, hurling over the toilet and gagging on the flowers that are stuck in his throat. He stares at the mess he made and flushes the toilet, looking at his pale, sleep deprived face in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were a clear sign that he wasn’t getting enough sleep, the blonde having been woken up by the god damn flowers. 

When Dream leaves the bathroom he sits on the table and hesitantly takes the scarf off his mouth, George putting down his phone to sit across from him, beaming, pushing the orange looking soup to Dream. Dream peered at it carefully, running his spoon through the soup, it definitely smelt good. “Tell me what you think of it.”

Warmth spreads on Dream’s freckled face, even if it tastes like shit he’d drink the entire thing then praise the pretty boy sitting in front of him with hopeful eyes, and with that thought, he quickly shoved a spoonful of soup in his mouth before he coughs out another petal. The warm soup was tormenting his raw, hoarse throat, but it was unbelievably good. 

He puts his spoon down. “It tastes like shit George,” he feigns disgust on his face, scrunching his nose and George huffs. 

“You liar! I heard your little moan when you drank it,” he smirks in response and Dream freezes.

“I… did not.”

“Did so.”

Instead of responding, Dream just shoves another spoonful into his mouth and George, with a proud smile watches him gulp down the delicious meal. They sit in silence, with the exception of Dream eating, comfortably and Dream can’t help but look at George, who’s hair seemed so soft it looked like cotton, the oversized sweater bunched at his fingers as he squints at his phone with a soft smile. Dream sighs quietly, putting his attention back to the soup. 

After a while he pushes the plate towards the center of the table and smiles softly, “It was really good George, thank you,” affection laced in his voice and George’s ears tint red. 

“No problem, really, you always do this for me when I’m stuck with a fever,” he chuckles and picks up Dream’s plate. Dream hums in response heading once again to the sofa’s and lies back, his head tilted towards the ceiling and he lets out an exasperated sigh, eyes closing slightly. Despite having this stupid illness, George brings the man so much comfort it shocks him a little. 

The couch sinks a little next to him and for a while, he forgets about the roots growing in his lungs, the petals and blood that cover his bedroom floor, and all his thoughts laser focused on the Brit’s brown eyes. 

George puts his hand on Dream’s forehead, as if he were checking for a fever, “Tired, Dreamie?” And Dream hums in response, his eyes falling shut, the heat spreading slightly across his face. 

The couch sinks lower and closer to him and Dream opens one eye and gruff in annoyance, only to widen both eyes in surprise. George was right next to his face, his breath feathering across Dream’s cheeks as the Brit showed slight concern, pink, soft, lips in his mouth as he nibbles on it. And his scent, Gods his scent, it was a mix of nuts and honey, it filled Dream’s nose like he was on Cloud 9. And for a second, they stayed there, Dream staring into George’s gorgeous brown eyes, leaning unconsciously into his hand and George looking down at Dream with the softest look. He runs his fingers through the blonde locks and smiles a little.

“You’re a little warm, Dreamie, you sure you okay?” He whispers, face close to the other. 

At that moment, the flowers rose up with no resistance, the roots growing as he quickly shoves George aside to retch the blood and petals that come from his lungs. Dream’s coughs were harsh, oxygen couldn’t get into his lungs. Fuck he was _dying._ He couldn’t fucking breathe. The nauseating, metallic taste made his head spin and he could barely hear George over the sound of his thumping heartbeat in his ears, blood rushing to his head as he tried to gasps for air.

He holds a hand out, warning the boy not to get any closer as he gags and tries to breathe. After a couple coughs and heaves, he finally felt oxygen enter his lungs again and he took an exasperated breath. 

After a couple moments of silence, Dream calmed down, sitting back in a daze and scrunches in disgust at the mess he’s made. Then he remembers. _George._ He turns to the poor boy slowly, who witnessed the atrocity that just happened and offers a small, wavering smile. 

But George had tears in his eyes, a sadness that Dream couldn’t convey, biting his lip to try not to burst into a session of tears and he nudges forward towards Dream. Realizing that the elder had grabbed a tissue during his attack, he gives a small nod to George, guilt and uneasiness settling across his chest along with the ache of the roots damaging his lungs. George’s warm hand rubs Dream’s back as he used the tissue to wipe away at the blood that dribbled on his chin.

Dream winces.

Disgusting.

After cleaning up a bit, they sit in silence.

“How long?” The Brit whispers, his knuckles white from holding himself so tightly and Dream almost cries. 

“About two weeks,” came his hoarse reply and George makes an indistinguishable sound. 

“W-why didn’t you fucking tell me?” He stutters and turns to look at Dream, his eyes shine, threatening to break and spill and all Dream wants to do is hold the boy until he falls asleep, to take all his worries off his mind and have him rest.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” partially true. “You had other things to deal with and I didn’t want to dump this on you.”

George’s tears trickle down his pale cheeks and Dream is a little mesmerized. He grabs the blonde and shakes him a little, “You idiot, you’re my fucking friend, I care about you, I don’t care if I have to deal with Alex too, you’re important to me!” He reprimands loudly, sniffing between words. 

Dream takes a deep breath, putting his hands on George’s shoulder and squeezes them slightly, he couldn’t hug the boy now, for more than one reason, but this managed to put him at ease a little. “Don’t worry, it’s not that bad,” he lies with a soft smile. “It’ll go away soon.” He almost promises but winces at the thought. He wouldn’t be able to bear it. Because deep down, Dream knew that this wasn’t something he’d get over so easily.

George frowns, tears still trickling down his cheeks and he tugs Dream onto a cleaner area, then leans against him as he quietly sobs. Quiet, “I’m sorry’s” escaping his lips every now and then and Dream just hushes the boy quietly, combing his fingers through the crying boy’s black, soft, hair.

Thunder booms in the distance outside the apartment. 

It starts to rain, the heavy splatter of water knocking against the window and the earthly smell of rain peeks through the open balcony doors.

When his sniffles come to an end, George eventually leaves, leaving with a small ‘please just text me or call me if you need anything, okay?’ and Dream watches the boy walk down the corridor, heartache growing in his chest as he yearns for George’s touch again.

Locking the door, Dream heads over to the balcony and watches the rain.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whispers.

George never asked who it was.

~✿❀~

The next week was hell to Dream’s lungs. George had been coming in to check on Dream, bringing food and warm drinks. And even when his heart soared every time the boy would come and knock at his door, the roots settling in his lungs told him differently. 

Thankfully, Dream was able to keep his distance from George, having close encounters was a definitive way to make Dream’s heart race and skip a couple beats. But watching the Brit come and go, caring for his sickly friend with drinks and food and caring acts, his heart still races and jumps just a little.

Maybe a lot.

Either way he was fucked. It was just a matter of time Dream had till George finds out who it is, since the boy still hadn’t connected the dots. Perhaps Dream was better at hiding his feelings than he thought. 

“Are you going to tell me who it is?” George asks one day, he had finished his classes for the day and was spending time with Dream who was holed up at home and he grumbles in response as he swipes through Twitter, at first not processing the question. 

His eyes widen as the words repeat in his head and sits up a little with a jolt. Dream begins to get nervous, eyes wandering around the room and to George then back to a very interesting spot on the floor. He could see at the corner of his eyes that George is frowing9, his lips jutting out a little with a small pout. 

“Um,” Dream hesitates, fiddling with his green hoodie and he looks back at the elder, “Just someone I know…” he goes on, without answering his question.

George’s lips go thin, and Dream could tell he was a little disappointed for not trusting his friend to tell him who it was but what the hell was he going to do? He couldn’t possibly tell George he was madly in love with him, his friend, it would ruin them. George wouldn’t know what to do or how to act with this unrequited love and he’d stop interacting like they always did. 

Dream coughs, a petal making its way up his throat. 

“Fine,” George mutters and goes back to scrolling through his phone. 

They sit in unspoken silence, the lingering question hanging in the air and Dream shuffles uncomfortably. He sighs and moves closer to George. He had been trying to keep his distance from the Brit, just to make sure he didn’t have any bad attacks, and he knew this act might just bring one up but comforting George, was much more important to Dream. 

Dream reaches out and hesitates, was he really going to do this?

George didn’t love him back, if he did it was completely platonic. The Gardenia’s that followed him around screamed so. He knew, yet he was willing to do so just to ease the frustration and disappointment that danced on George’s brows. 

He puts his hand on George’s pale hands, his long fingers stop mid action and George freezes a little but Dream sighs with endearment in his breath. George always had cold hands, they prickled against Dream’s warm hand, every time they accidentally brush their hands against each other, every time George passes a drink to Dream, he shivers. George’s touch is like snow, but a beautiful, white sheet covering the lands, sprinkles of white slowly hovering in the air, yet the sun felt hot, hot against his skin, his chest blooming. George’s touch was held him captive in Cloud 9. 

Dream pulls at the Brit’s fingers a little, one hand letting go of the phone as George watches his hand being encased in Dream’s warm hands. He fiddles with the pale digits and smiles a little.

“I’m sorry, George,” he whispers, hoarsely. He’s sorry that he couldn’t tell George. Sorry that he worried him. Sorry that he put this on his shoulders. 

But, he wasn’t sorry for falling in love with him. Because despite this illness, despite the Gardenia’s rising in his throat, despite the metallic taste of blood settling in his tongue, despite the roots growing and slowly killing him, falling in love with George felt _right_. It was written in stone and it was just meant to be. It felt like home.

George was his home.

Dream lurches forward, hand on his mouth as he runs to the bathroom as fast as he could. Falling onto his knees painfully, he hangs his head over the toilet bowl and retches up the flowers and blood, it was vile. A burning pain setting aflame in his chest and he grits his teeth at the agony in his lungs. The dark sea red painted across the toiled bowl, white blood-stained petals decorated the accompanying scarlet, crimson paint. Petals blocked his oesophagus, oxygen blocked from entering his lungs and he rasps desperately, loosing oxygen in his lungs, he barely hears the rushed footsteps of his friend, blood rushing in his ears and the thumping of his accelerating heartbeat growing louder, his head beginning to pulse and throb. 

He feels the warm snow touch his back, rubbing him up and down, and the image of George in a field of snow with the sun highlighting his beautiful features makes things worse. 

Faintly he hears George sharply inhale, hand suddenly off his back and Dream feels lost without his touch. He wheezes as the last bit of flowers rush down to the toilet and the blood drooling down his chin. With painful, teary eyes he slowly turns to George.

At the sight of the boy he freezes. 

George’s eyes wide, realization in his frightened stare and his glassy eyes unwavering. Dream knows he knows, Dream knows that George had figured it out, but he hopes, he prays that George didn’t. 

“It’s me… isn’t it?” A broken whisper shatters Dream like glass. 

He gives him a wobbly, broken smile, “How could it not be?” And George’s face falls, and he’s suddenly a blubbering mess. The glassy eyes burst and tears are suddenly clinging to his beautiful, pale face as he sniffles and cries. All Dream could do was watch him with a broken heart, the worst possibility just having happened. 

“I’m sorry,” George sniffles through cries, eyes closing as more tears sparkling like diamonds race down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, it’s my fault, I-I’m so sorry.” 

At that Dream shakes his head in panic, moving closer to the Brit and the other jerks back at the ruction and Dream shakes, because obviously, the elder hated him now. Why wouldn’t he?

“It’s not your fault, I promise,” Dream licks his lips in anxiety, the metallic taste nauseating, “It’s mine,” he whispers the last part. “I fell in love with you, it was all just me.” Dream blinks painfully, tears threatening to spill, “It's not your fault.”

Dream doesn’t inch closer to George, just painfully watches as the boy cries, holding himself in self comfort, without Dream right next to him. The uncomfortable atmosphere practically unbearable as he listens to George’s sniffles calming down. 

They don’t talk for a while. Just sitting there staring at the floor with distracted minds. ‘It couldn’t get worse than this,’ Dream thinks, his heart shattering into a million pieces, as if he didn’t need another reminder that the boy didn’t love him back. 

George makes the first move, taking a couple bits of tissue and pushes it on the floor towards Dream, his eyes trained on the floor. Dream shakily reaches out and grabs it, cleaning his blood soaked mouth. After cleaning his mouth, Dream flushes the toilet, sadly watching the Gardenia petals swirl in a sea of crimson, and disappear down the hole. 

George gets up slowly and finally makes eye contact, Dream’s heart shatters again at the look in his eyes.

“I’ll leave, I’m sorry I brought you so much pain,” George mumbles shakily, a small, wobbly smile tracing his lips and he turns around without waiting for a reply. 

Dream hears the front door close.

He curls into himself, and for once, he lets go, his barriers crumbling down as he let’s his tears out, crying at the fact that George just left him, that he was never coming back, that he thought it was all his fault, that he was never going to be able to see the Brit smile like honey-syrup, that he’d never be able to feel warm snow on his skin. 

That Dream lost his home. 

~✿❀~

Dream’s illness continues to worsen, he can barely sleep, every dream he had covered with the Brit’s warm smile and cold touch. He’s given up on going to the bathroom every time and keeps a bucket in his room. He cries, every time he thinks about the boy he can’t help but flinch in sadness at the fact that he lost the one thing that seemed to light his dark path. He misses George. He just wanted to wrap his arms around the elder and stay with him, soothing the worry out of his pretty face and take away all his worries. 

After a day or two of not answering messages on his phone, Sapnap barges into his apartment. At the loud entrance, Dream groggily gets up from bed, eyes infused with exhaustion and dark eye bags shade his lower lid. He peers out the bedroom and Sapnap, with a frustrated look in his face stomps over to Dream, Karl behind him with a joyful smile and he waves at Dream.

“Sorry for intruding,” he giggles in between, clearly amused by Sapnap’s act. At least someone had manners.

“’s fine,” Dream sluggishly mumbles, looking at the Texan boy, “What do you want Sap? I was tryin’ to sleep.”

In response, Sapnap drags the blonde to the living area. “Sit.” Dream obeys wordlessly, just tired from speaking and yawns. Sapnap drops food on the small table in front of Dream and sits in front of him. “Eat.”

Dream raises a brow, blinking slowly, then turning his attention to the container. Thoughts of George bringing him homemade food wriggled its way into his mind and he coughs, heaving as he spit the Gardenia’s onto the floor. The pain in his throat was unbearable, the thought of food going down his throat just tormented his mind.

“Sap, my throat is literally raw, you think I could eat?” He asks hoarsely, the couple watching him with concern, though grateful, he forgets that Sapnap knows practically everything about Dream. 

“It’s soup,” piped Karl, “I know your throat must hurt like a bitch so, I made something that would go down easily.” It reminds him of that time, when dark brown eyes looked at him with care and joy, watching Dream down the soup. 

“Thanks Karl,” he says dryly with a cough. A petal falls out his mouth.

He eats, slowly. He hasn’t eaten since the last time he saw George. Too busy crying then passing out then throwing up petals and blood. His eyes were blood shot from everything that’s happened and Sapnap and Karl could see it clear as day, his exhaustion also evident to the couple.

“Have you been sleeping?” Sapnap asks. It’s a dumb question. Dream pointedly looks at Sapnap, as if to say, ‘really?’ and Sapnap rolls his eyes in response. “Just wanting to ask,” he puts his hands up. 

Karl and Sapnap get comfortable on the sofa, the former leaning against his boyfriend and humming in delight when Sapnap combs his fingers through the mob of brown hair and Dream rolls his eyes at the PDA. Those two always had their hands on each other in one way or another. Dream was almost certain that they wouldn’t be able to survive a whole day without touching each other. He would bet on that. 

Dream finishes his soup and sighs with slight relief. It was nice to finally have something in his stomach other than water. He sits back on the sofa and closes his eyes, wanting to doze of for a bit. Sapnap doesn’t let him though.

“Why haven’t you been answering my texts, Dream?” He hears his best friend’s voice ask in a voice that voices, ‘no bullshitting me.’ 

Dream shuffles uncomfortably. Not wanting to remember the events leading up to that awful day, the memories of George’s broken expression when he saw the flowers, the face that he had when he found out who Dream loved. “George… he found out,” he barely whispers, but the couple heard it.

“About… what?” Sapnap asks, almost fearful. He knew George, they were good friends, and he also knew that George’s reaction to the blonde’s illness must have been anything but good, especially if he knew he was the cause for it.

“All of it,” Dream’s voice breaks. The shattered expression the elder had on his face in the bathroom, staring at Dream with tears in his eyes, only imprinted itself in Dream’s memories more. Dream’s heart wrenches and twists. He never wanted to see George with that expression, ever. 

“I’m so sorry, Dream,” Karl whispers, sadness laced into his tone and Dream blinks back the tears. He can’t cry, not in front of them.

“He hasn’t come back to see me, Sap, what the hell do I do,” Dream’s voice cracking and he puts an arm over his eyes. He wasn’t crying. He wouldn’t.

Sapnap is quiet for a while, Dream breathing heavily to stop the tears from running down the side of his face. He can almost guess what his friend was going to say, and when the words come out he was going to fucking—

“Maybe it’s for the best,” and there it was, the dreaded words. 

Dream grits his teeth, “No, it is not Sapnap, he’s not coming back to me, even if this shit goes away, there’s no way he’s going to want to be around me. I don’t fucking want that!” He almost shouts. Yeah, George wasn’t coming back, deep down he knew, two days ago was the last he’d see of his smile, his eyes, his pale skin. Dream lurches forward and coughs. Tears prickling his eyes and he closes them shut. “I just want to see him,” he whispers on the verge of tears. 

It was Karl that answered Dream, making his way over and sitting next to him, he rubs his palms on Dream’s back and all Dream could think of was George running his cold hands on his back in the same manner. 

“I know,” Karl says softly. “Sapnap didn’t mean it that way, he just hates seeing you suffering, we both know that all you want is for George to be okay, for George to be next to you, even if he didn’t love you back. We know,” he pauses a bit, Dream sniffles quietly, his tears beginning to spill and Dream could her the sad smile in his voice. “You’re in pain, and it’s okay to cry about it, for as long as you need to.”

And apparently, two days of crying wasn’t enough for Dream’s heart, of course it wasn’t, because at that statement, Dream wraps his arms around himself and wails, again. Knuckles white as he holds himself as tightly as he could and his broken whimpers rattling the room. His heart ripping to shreds like he had been murdered and his sobs wrecked through his body. The traces of tears like a slugs trail crawling down his cheeks and the wet drop splattering onto the floor. The ugly sniffling of Dream’s nose was loud, gasping and wheezing between weeps of cries. Even though he’s been crying for the past few days, he really let go this time. The heavy weight on his shoulders being poured out through his eyes as Dream continues to wail at the loss of the Brit.

The couple watches and sits in silence as eventually, Dream’s sobs mellow out, sniffling every once in a while. Karl hands him a tissue and he blows his nose. Dream looks at Sapnap, who’s expression was painted with pain and worry, he gives him a wobbly smile, apologetic. 

“I’m sorry,” Sapnap whispers softly, biting his lip, “I just want you to be okay, I don’t want to lose you, I just wish… you deserve everything good and you don’t deserve this. You’re my best friend, Dream, the last thing I want is you dying on me.”

Dream understands. If he were in his friend’s position, he would think the same. 

“You still won’t consider the surgery?” Sapnap asks in a small voice and Dream shakes his head. Despite what happened two days ago, he’d rather die than forget the strong surge of happiness George brings him. 

“I’m sorry,” Dream apologizes, because he really was, he didn’t want to worry his friends like this.

Sapnap smiles sadly.

~✿❀~

Dream was heading towards the kitchen to drink away the repulsive taste of blood that stuck onto his tongue when he hears the a rapid knock on the door. Dream huffs, Sapnap had classes at this time, and Karl was most likely at work. He really couldn’t let anyone see the devastating condition Dream was in, blood shot eyes and dark bags coating his lower lid. So he ignores it at first. 

But the knocks get faster, more panicked and Dream is worried. When he gets to the door and opens it, the last person he’d think would come and see him stood there. 

Brown eyes that hold entire universes in them are looking at him with agony, traces of wet tears painting his pale cheeks, mouth coated with bits of blood, drizzling down his chin onto his shirt, and at first, Dream thinks Alex has just done the worst and is almost about ready to kill the piece of shit. But the boy coughs, and a blue petal escapes his mouth and falls on the floor. Dream inhales sharply and his heart twists.

“Help,” George croaks out and all warning signs in his head shoot out the window as George begins to heave. Dream quickly drags the Brit to the bathroom and forces him down to toilet level. Rubbing his back, George whimpers at the pain, and he fists his shirt at his chest, clearly in torment from the roots beginning to grow, blood paints the toilet bowl as he hacks again, sky blue petals falling down the toilet bowl and floats with ease in the crimson sea of water. Dream wonders if this is how Sapnap saw him the first time. 

George squeezes his fists in pain, probably drawing blood from his palms and Dream’s heart shatters, he hears George gag and struggling to breathe, and all Dream could say to the boy was “I’m right here, I’ve got you,” as he rubs the his back, wishing he could take it all away.

When George’s settles a little he sits back, drawing deep breathes and treasuring the gift of oxygen that enters his lungs, streams of tears staining his face. Dream offers a tissue to the Brit and he turns a little, noticing the gesture, George offers the blonde a small, broken smile, and Dream’s heart is smashed into pieces all over again seeing the elder so upset, and in so much physical and emotional pain. All he wants to do is go right up to Alex and punch him in the face for hurting George so badly, for putting him through this torment of an illness.

George faces Dream, sparkling diamonds falling from his eyes as he sniffles. “He doesn’t love me anymore, Dream.”

Dream grits his teeth in unvoiced anger, reaching out to hold the Brit’s hand, the boy softening his hold on his shirt and letting Dream bring his hand towards him. He uncurls the tightened fist and lightly runs his fingers on the edges of the small wounds that George created with his nails. Scarlet balls beginning to form and Dream furrows his brows.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to him and George shakes his head, looking down on the floor.

“I’m sorry for coming to you… I panicked and… I just—” his voice cracks, tears rolling down his pale skin, “I know you’re probably in pain—”

“Don’t say sorry for coming to me, illness or not, I’m here for you always, Georgie, always. I don’t care if I’m burning in hell, if you need me, if you need help, I’ll go right to you,” Dream declares and George’s eyes widen before he gives a small, but genuine, smile, and Dream’s heart blooms again. The past days of crying were gone from his memory and all he could see was the honey like smile George gave him.

“Careful now, you’ll give yourself another attack,” George chuckles softly and Dream smiles at the comfortable atmosphere. Helps George clean himself and the mess in the bathroom and they head onto the couch.

“How did you deal with this for two weeks straight,” George whispers, almost astonished, staring at the blonde.

Dream chuckles dryly, “It’s worth it I guess.” At the statement George makes an incredulous face, as if to say, ‘how the fuck is this worth it?’ And Dream bites back a smile, George doesn’t know how much he deserved to be loved.

They sit in silence a bit, both facing each other, nervously looking at each other then breaking eye contact.

“You need to break up with him,” Dream points out and George nibbles on his lip. Dream follows the movement, suddenly wishing it was him nibbling on those pink lips and he coughs.

“I know,” the other whispers playing with his fingers. They’re at a distance of each other, and all Dream wants to do is close the distance and hold the Brit close, soothing him of his heartache. “Will I need to get the surgery?”

Dream ponders for a while, then shakes his head definitively. “You’ll get over him, you probably already are starting to,” he pauses, “you want to right?” At the question George nods but hesitates.

“I just don’t want to be alone…”

Dream smiles, “You won’t be, you have Bad, Skeppy, Sapnap, and Karl,” he hesitates, “and me,” he whispers the last part, almost afraid, and George’s eyes crinkle with a smile. They sit in another comfortable silence, George studying Dream’s tired features, exhaustion painted in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you get the surgery?”

Dream had nothing to hide anymore. He smiles, fondness filling his eyes, “Because I’d never want to forget the feeling of loving you, of what you make me feel by just being around me.”

“What feeling is that?” George asks curiously, almost hesitantly, like he was afraid of the answer.

Dream bites his lips. _Fuck it_. “When you smile, it’s sweet like honey-syrup, your eyes hold the entire universe in the and I could stare at them all day and not get bored. When you laugh it’s like the world that was dark suddenly blooms with color and lights up like a festival. When we touch, your hands are cold, like winter, a sheet of white, pure snow yet, the sun is bright, it’s warm. And even though I grew up in Florida,” he pauses, “you’re the one that feels like home.” Dream doesn’t say it, but falling in love with George was right.

George stares at Dream in shock, eyes wide. Then, he blinks suddenly looking away nervously, “Oh shut up, Mr. English major,” he mutters, “you’re exaggerating.”

Dream could see the tint of red spreading on his pale cheeks and he bites back a smile.

~✿❀~

George struggled for the next couple of days. At first, his attacks coming onto him every day, throat filled with blue petals and chins dribbling with blood. His eyes would shut at the painful endeavor he went through and tears would escape and roll down his cheeks. 

But Dream was there. Every single day, he would make his way over to the elder’s apartment to take care of him, cooking food and making sure George knew Dream was there, right next to him. He was never alone.

Sapnap and Karl had also come to visit, giving George a painful, sympathetic look, but happy that the relationship with the ex had ended. Everyone knew deep down, he was an asshole who treated George like shit. 

Sapnap was holding his phone in his hand as he read about the illness, Karl holding his other with his head rested on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “So, apparently, taking out the roots is going to be the worst of it,” he summarizes, both the blonde and the Brit winces at that. If it was painful as it is now, how were they going to survive taking fucking _roots_ out of their mouths? “But you’ll survive, don’t worry, the rate of death is pretty low,” George looked terrified at the mere fact that he could just suffocate and _die_. He looks at Dream with panic and worry, and Dream combs his fingers through his black hair.

“You’ll be fine Georgie, I’ll be right there.”

It had been a week since George had revealed to Dream that he had the illness and George was over at Dream’s apartment again, watching a movie on the couch. George’s attacks had slowed down, becoming less and less frequent and Dream was happy, _really_ happy. The boy was finally moving on from the piece of shit known as Alex (Dream still wanted to punch him), and was getting ready that at any moment, the roots could come out.

“Give me that pillow Dream! I like it more!” George whines as he makes his way over to the couch, popcorn bowl in hand and Dream smiles cheekily, hugging the pillow and sniffing it. 

“Mmm, smells like you,” he teases with joyous eyes and George rolls his eyes, Dream not noticing the tinted red tips of his ears.

“Shove off,” George scoffs as he puts the popcorn on the table in front of them and drops down on the couch next to Dream, a lot closer than he probably should. “Keep doing that and you’ll have another attack you moron.” 

Recently, George had been inching himself closer to Dream, who initially kept a distance from the Brit as to not induce an attack. Yet, as Dream felt George’s thigh brush his, his chest didn’t ache. The petals stayed at bay and the blood was nowhere to be seen. Dream’s attacks were getting less frequent, he noticed, and he knew it wasn’t because he was getting over the boy.

He stared at George’s face as he stuffed his face with popcorn. 

“Your popcorn’s shit,” came his muffled voice and it was Dream’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“Popcorn can’t taste shit,” he states and leans forward to take a handful, and as if to prove a point, he shoves it in his mouth and chews on it loudly, the Brit complaining and shoving the blonde away from him in disgust.

“Stop it, that’s disgusting,” George whines in response and shoves Dream’s shoulder lightly.

Dream swallows and grins sloppily. He loved moments like these, where George didn’t care about putting up a persona, where George easily smiled and giggled, honey dripping from the sound of it, where George teased the younger about his endeavors. Their time spent together was bliss to Dream, it felt like a dream to him. He was almost afraid that he was going to wake up any second and start hurling blood and white petals onto his bedroom floor. 

George giggles at Dream and leans into him slightly.

Almost.

The movie plays.

At first, it started with George shuffling closer to Dream, thighs touching each other. Dream gave him a look, but nothing came of it, the Brit focused on the movie. Endeared, the blonde sighs and looks back at the screen, ignoring his pounding heart against his rib cage. The petals didn’t come. Then, George leaned a little to the other, arms resting against each other as the movie continued to play. Dream feeling the slight movement and his cheeks flame a little, the movie suddenly becoming boring, mind hyper focused on the touch of the smaller boy next to him. He peeked a look at George and saw that he was glaring at the screen in concentration, probably upset with one of the character’s actions. Dream gulped a little and tried to focus on the movie again. 

George moved and laid his head on Dream’s shoulder.

Dream’s mind and heart _screamed_ , and Dream waited stiffly.

The petals didn’t come.

Realization came through his mind. 

The petals weren’t coming.

A sharp inhale and Dream looked at the boy, his heart soared, and his body relaxed, letting himself lean against the Brit too. An endearing and happy sigh left his lips, at the sound George looked up at him, face way too close to his, his breath delicately brushing over Dream’s lips and all Dream wanted to do was to pull the boy close and finally kiss those pretty, pink lips of his.

“Hey,” George whispers, eyes filled with anything and everything soothing Dream of his nerves. Dream smiles.

“Hey Georgie.” 

They stay like that for a while, staring into each other’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Arms and thighs against each other, and George feels _warm._ The movie playing ended up being background noise as Dream’s head was filled with George, everything in his body screamed at him to pick the boy up and hold him closer, as close as he could. George looked away first, an obvious red blush sprinkling in his cheeks, his lips biting back a smile as his hands rested on Dream’s thigh. The cold touch sending shivers down Dream’s spin even through his jeans and the elder drew shapeless shapes with his thumb.

Suddenly, George jolts a little, coughing. And just as fast, the moment ended. 

“I… I need to go to the bathroom,” George mumbles, eyes looking down and Dream worries.

“Do you want me to come with you?” At the question the other shakes his head. 

“No need,” he offers a grin to the blonde as he hops off the couch, heading to the bathroom.

Dream’s head is just stuffed to the brim with thoughts about the elder. His eyes, his pale skin, his nose, his pretty pink lips, his cold hands and— 

Dream groans. He had always had dreams of the two together, which always resulted in a trip to the bathroom and a night full of blood and white stained petals, but having them be so close, in a way that seemed so intimate, Dream almost couldn’t believe it actually happened. George’s breath practically kissing him.

Dream sits back on the sofa, head facing the ceiling as he closes his eyes at the memory.

It wasn’t long until Dream realized how long the elder was taking. Worry filled him and he bit his lip as he headed over to the bathroom. He’s about to knock when he hears a gag and he rapidly opens the door. 

Dream finds George gagging over the toilet bowl, hand in mouth as if pulling something, blood running down his chin and tears watering his cheeks. Dream rushes over and puts a hand on his back, another in his hair to comfort the poor boy struggling. 

“I’m here now, I’m right here, you can do it,” George convulses as he pulls again at the stem stuck in his throat, a couple more petals falling like feathers. George shuts his eyes in agony, inhaling a deep breath through his nose (as much as he could anyway) and he tugs, hard. “Careful,” Dream worries, squeezing the elder’s shoulders.

George gags as he finally pulls the roots out of his mouth and the plant lands in the toilet, the boy heaving desperately for air down his throat, one hand coming to rub against his throat and George sniffles at the pain caused. He looks at Dream and he’s a mess, blood all over his mouth and chin, tear stricken face, but he smiles in pain, eyes happy. 

“I did it Dream,” he croaks through the tormenting pain, leaning his head towards Dream’s hand in his hair. Dream looks at him with soft eyes.

“You did,” he pauses, “why didn’t you call me?”

The Brit shrugs, a smile laced onto his lips, “I was fine, I wanted to do this alone.”

And at that, Dream laughs. 

~✿❀~

They start to hold hands.

George had come over after Dream had finished his first day back at work, he sat, tiredly on the sofa. He had forgotten how draining human interaction could be, but enjoyed having his old routine slowly coming back into his life. The blonde resting on the sofa with a hum, silence a heavy weight in the air. He heard the door open, and the heaviness in the room evaporates, instead, it bloomed with the angelic voice of the boy he loved so much.

“Hey Dreamie, I’m coming in!” Dream had given George a spare key so he could come in whenever he wanted as their relationship inched closer. Dream hummed in response, ignoring his heart starting to race, and he heard the small footsteps padding to where Dream laid back. Dream opens his eyes slightly and looks at the elder through the lids of his eyes hazily. He studied George’s features carefully, almost entranced by the pretty boy.

He smiled. “Hey Georgie,” he whispered and George grinned in response, red blooming across his cheeks, rising to the tips of his ears as he looks away. George sinked into the spot next to him and leaned into the blonde.

“How was work?” George murmured, getting comfortable against Dream and Dream resisted the urge to run his fingers through the soft, cotton like hair. 

“Good.”

The air went silent, but it was light and airy, Dream’s eyes closing once again as he enjoyed the close company, his heart doing somersaults, his nerves on edge and his breath caught in his throat. Ever since George had come back into his life, he couldn’t believe he was living reality. Every single day, he expected to wake up and find him still away from him, out of reach. 

But he was right here, curled up next to him like a koala.

He felt the cold prickle of George’s hand on his thigh, next to his hand, he rested it there for a while, drawing circles into Dream’s jeans and he shivers lightly. 

The snow crawled its way to his hand, first, touching his thumb, the light cold wrapping around his finger and Dream’s breath was caught in his throat. He was almost mesmerized by the touch, feeling like he was in the middle of a snow field with the sun hugging his skin. He could feel the boy’s breath against him arm and Dream’s heart skipped a couple beats, waiting with a held breath. George then spreads Dream’s fingers out, and placed his palm directly against his and Dream was in Heaven. Closing his fingers around the Brit’s cold hands, he felt George shiver. 

He turned and opened his eyes, green eyes staring into George’s brown, universal eyes, and they both shyly smiled at each other. George squeezed his hand and Dream felt like he had just squeezed his heart. 

Their hands warming, and it was like the snow was melting, flowers blooming towards the sky as winter finally passes by and spring day comes along. Gardenia’s bloom, and Dream is standing in a field blanketed in white flowers. The soft touch of fingers were like a petal’s touch, Dream lay in the cloud of pure bliss.

“Hi Georgie.”

George licked his lips, and Dream could tell the boy was slightly nervous, yet he pressed himself against the blonde even more. “Hey.” They sat like that, breathe feathering and tickling each other’s skin, neither of them daring to make a move. 

“I think I’m getting better,” Dream confessed, slight nervousness in his voice. “And it’s not because I’m falling out of love with you,” he continues, “I love you more than before, but I’m getting better.”

George smiles, “I know.”

The rest of the day went with the two of them holding hands, and when Dream pulled away to do something, George would pout and hold out his hand, and Dream’s hand went right back to his like a magnet. Because he could never deny the Brit something so simple, something so warm.

They start to hold hands.

~✿❀~

When the roots start to make their way up his throat, Dream really thinks he’s dying this time. He’s hunched over the toilet bowl, gagging and his throat being tormented and torn as he tugs on the roots that are stuck in his throat, the roots scratching and drawing blood. The pain is ungodly, it felt worse than any attack he’s had before. Blood drips from his chin and he squeezes his eyes shut, traces of tears falling down his face. A burning flame of agony ignited further as he pulled harder. He can’t fucking breathe, the complete lack of air making his head spin and he’s shimmering in light sweat.

George is behind him, whispering ‘I’m sorry’s’ with his arms around his waist, nose buried into his nape and he squeezes Dream tightly and all Dream wants to do is get these stupid roots out of his damn throat and tell the boy to shut up and stop apologizing. 

“Hurry up and take them out so I can say it,” George whispers shakily.

_It._

Dream pulls, _hard_ , and the roots finally land in the bowl, lumps of blood and petals following the plant, and finally, Dream was able to breathe, he finally was able to inhale oxygen down his ripped throat and he feels relieved, leaning back into George’s arms while heavily breathing. Cleaning his mouth, he turns to George and the boy is looking at him with glossy eyes.

“I love you.”

Oh.

 _Oh_ , Dream wasn’t awake. He just woke up, the words like a cold bucket of water of realization. George loves him. 

He loves Dream.

George squeezes Dream into a hug, nose buried into the ape of his and Dream could feel a small, shy smile.

Dream holds him. “I love you.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” the Brit whispers and looks into Dream’s green eyes, and Dream falls a little more. He stared into the eyes that held the entire universe and George cupped his cheeks. 

They leaned into each other and their lips touch, Dream finally feeling the soft sensation of George’s lips against his. Dream holds him and kisses back.

Yeah, it was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> My brain: No one has written dream with hanahaki, write it
> 
> Me: okay
> 
> My brain: make them SUFFER
> 
> Me: okay
> 
> My brain: kill one of them
> 
> Me: o.O WeLL


End file.
